


Ghosting

by TiliaC0rdata



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Dealing With Guilt, Developing Friendships, Essek Thelyss Has a Crush, Essek Thelyss Needs a Hug, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Imagine more time passed between these two episodes, Lonely Essek Thelyss, M/M, Mentions of Trent Ikithon, POV Essek Thelyss, Paranoid!Essek Thelyss, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Pre-episode 97, Rated mature just in casies, There are no therapists in Exandria, There really should be, feelings are hard guys, he's learning, post-episode 91
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:27:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28358517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiliaC0rdata/pseuds/TiliaC0rdata
Summary: You cannot fall for him,he scolded himself.You are too smart for that!And yet he had to admit that he’d come to cherish the younger wizard’s presence. He’d taken a liking to the tea he always brought – rosemary, good for concentration, prepared by Caduceus. He enjoyed the subtle sounds, the calm breathing, the occasional hum of concentration or realization, the rustling of pages flipped by someone else’s fingers. He’d picked up on a few details while stealing glances from behind his book. He now knew that Caleb wrinkled his nose when transcribing a spell, that he liked to rest his chin on his wrist, lips hidden behind his knuckles, as he looked into the distance, that he sometimes bit his lower lip while reading, that he rubbed his temples with his fingertips whenever he got frustrated. But his favourite sight by far was when after a few hours spent hunched over a desk, Caleb rose to stretch his stiffened muscles.Essek struggles to maintain his sanity while navigating the tense political landscape and the complexities of friendship. And then there's Caleb Widogast, intriguing, endearing and potentially dangerous. Especially since he seems to be hiding something...
Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 17
Kudos: 99





	1. An unexpected message

**Author's Note:**

> Woof! This one took me a while to get out! Also, even though I live for the domestic and established, I decided to dabble in pre-relationship for these two nerds. It takes place between episodes 91 and 97, if you imagine that a lot more time has passed in between!
> 
> As always, huge thanks to my wonderful beta @FallingT for reading, re-reading, brainstorming, encouragement, jokes, corrections, all other kinds of invaluable help, and - of course - coming up with the title! <3

_Hiiii, Essek! Guess what! We’re at the Xhorhaus! Did you miss us soooo much? Are you busy? Can you come over? Also, what is your…_

He was tracing a particularly subtle line in his spell book when the bubbly voice rang in his head, startling him. He checked for spilled ink on the page and breathed a sigh of relief. Jester truly had impeccable timing.

It was strange to feel giddy at the prospect of seeing people, after so many years of keeping mostly to himself, relishing the peace and quiet of his study, his mind focused solely on his research. And not just any people, but denizens of the Empire, a Cobalt Soul expositor, a would-be scourger... He groaned. How did he end up in such a mess? Once these newcomers fell into the intricate web of political influences that he’d been navigating so well for so long, they managed to tangle it beyond all recognition in record time.

In any case, it was probably wise to keep a close eye on their moves and whereabouts, he decided. Especially seeing as two of them were dangerously clever. The rest were, well, less clever than they liked to think. Quite frankly, they all acted like bumbling idiots a lot of the time.

And they were awfully nosy. The monk, asking question after question in her blunt, disrespectful manner. The wizard, laying his charm on thick, coaxing Essek into becoming his tutor. And the others, constantly crossing his personal boundaries, especially by showing a… less than healthy interest in his feet. He grimaced at the awkward memory of the goblin brushing her hand against his foot. _She “thought it was a piece of soap”. Sure. And I’m a bugbear._

But as much of a nuisance as those seven could be, they made for, admittedly, enjoyable company. He should be annoyed at the interruption, but he could already feel excitement burgeoning in his chest. He liked them. Merciful light, he liked them. He sighed. It was probably good for him to step away from the books every once in a while.

Oh, right. Books. He looked over the stack of tomes on his desk, and as eager as he’d been to dig into them, they strangely felt like a chore now. He shook his head. He had a lot of work to do, _important_ and exciting work. Still… He cleared his throat and replied, carefully choosing each word.

“Hello, Jester. It is good to have you returned. I am currently occupied… I suppose I could join you in a few hours?”

There was a beat of silence, then he heard her again, even louder this time.

_Sure! You can join us for dinner! Do you want us to prepare the hot tub again? And you didn’t answer my question! Mine’s pink!_

He smiled softly despite himself.

“Wonderful. I shall head over towards your abode in about…,” he eyed the stack of books again. “…three hours. There is no need for the, um, hot tub…”

He thought for a second, then added, “It’s purple, I think?”

He sincerely hoped that his guess was correct, and that the tiefling was interested in his favourite colour, and not, say, some part of drow anatomy.

There was no answer, but he was used to that. Jester tended not to confirm their appointments, a cultural difference perhaps or, more likely, the result of her short attention span. But since they invited him, it was probably safe to assume he would not be imposing.

About half an hour passed before he was ready to admit that he couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts kept trailing off, and if he was honest with himself, he knew there was one subject they were gravitating towards. That rush of excitement that he felt when he got the message was not entirely about the evening meeting. It would be nice to see them again, of course, but the truly exciting part was that the next day, he was going to have Caleb Widogast all to himself.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, as heat rose in his cheeks. Falling for a Zemnian and a former student of Trent Ikithon was sheer folly. Besides, he had far more pressing matters on his hands, and he’d done well by not placing his trust in every random man whose smile made him lose his cool. Still, he had been looking forward to seeing the human again.

Ever since he let the Nein into his home, since that exhilarating evening when they completed the transmogrification spell, Caleb had been paying him somewhat regular visits. He got messages from Jester announcing their arrival in Rosohna, they invited him over or rested for the night, and the next day there would be a knock on his door, the redhead giving him a timid smile and waiting politely to be invited in. It was quite disarming, how well-mannered and courteous the man was, very unlike his brash Empire friend.

They usually spent most of the day, sometimes even two days, together. Often, they just sat in silence, noses buried in their respective books. Essek honestly didn’t mind the company – Caleb was very quiet and respectful – and he could imagine that the Xhorhaus, as they kept calling the mansion, was entirely too loud and chaotic to get any serious reading done. Sometimes they took breaks and talked about their most recent advancements, both noticeably torn between their eagerness to share their excitement and the need to carefully choose which details they could disclose. It was easy to see that Caleb didn’t fully trust him either, but he had opened up enough to recount a few stories from the road and even crack a joke every once in a while.

 _You cannot fall for him,_ he scolded himself. _You are too smart for that!_

And yet he had to admit that he’d come to cherish the younger wizard’s presence. He’d taken a liking to the tea he always brought – rosemary, good for concentration, prepared by Caduceus. He enjoyed the subtle sounds, the calm breathing, the occasional hum of concentration or realization, the rustling of pages flipped by someone else’s fingers. He’d picked up on a few details while stealing glances from behind his book. He now knew that Caleb wrinkled his nose when transcribing a spell, that he liked to rest his chin on his wrist, lips hidden behind his knuckles, as he looked into the distance, that he sometimes bit his lower lip while reading, that he rubbed his temples with his fingertips whenever he got frustrated. But his favourite sight by far was when after a few hours spent hunched over a desk, Caleb rose to stretch his stiffened muscles. The man could only be described as thin, but there was something inherently masculine about his figure. The book holster he wore always struck Essek as cumbersome and impractical, especially when compared to his convenient pocket dimension, but it did frame his back quite nicely. The way he rolled his shoulders made it hard to concentrate, as did the fact that Xhorhassian-style breeches looked exceptionally good on him. He especially loved how he ran his slender fingers through his red locks, gathering them into a messy knot, a few loose strands always spilling on the sides and down the nape of his neck, which was quite a sight itself, long and covered in small constellations of freckles.

He sighed again and ran a hand through his own hair. At this point, trying to get back to work was pointless. Instead, he would take a moment to… _collect_ himself. Then he would get ready for the evening’s events, making sure to look effortlessly good. After all, Widogast provided him with lovely views – he might as well return the favour.

* * *

The ridiculous tree was visible from quite some distance, so he followed it and let his mind wander as he glided leisurely along the streets. He doubted he would ever get used to the sight – the canopy rising above the rooftops, the lights dancing against the inky black of Rosohna’s sky. He paused. There was no wind, so why would the lights…

“Sprin-kle, come back! I have some treats for you!”

Jester was hanging from a branch, almost entirely beyond the roof, her feet scrambling to find purchase on the trunk.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it, Jester?”

“I’m fine, Beau!” the tiefling grunted, grabbing onto another branch. “Come on, Sprinkle! Where are you?”

“ _I’m finally freeeee-!”_ came a shrill squeaky voice that, to Essek’s amusement, probably belonged to Fjord.

“ _Give me freedom or give me death!”_

The second voice was even more shrill. _Nott_ , he decided.

“Sprinkle is very happy with me, you guys!” Jester whined in protest, and as she kicked her leg for emphasis, there was a _CRACK_ and a squeak, and soon she was falling towards the ground. The goblin shrieked, and before Essek had a chance to react, the tiefling slowed in mid-fall, gently floating down to the ground, her skirt puffed up in the wind.

“Did it work? Are you okay, Jester?”

“Yes, thank you, Nott!”

“That’s good, we were afraid you would join your weasel in the afterlife!” Fjord teased, but his voice was a little shaky.

“My weasel is _alive_ , Fjord! How else would he have climbed the… Oh, Essek!” Her tone changed from petulant to joyful in a split second.

Essek did his best not to pinch the bridge of his nose and risked a look around the street. Lord Bilan was standing in his yard, quirking an eyebrow at them and, for some inexplicable reason, making a real show of knocking on the fence of his property. Essek lifted his chin and smiled gently at Jester. _Best to ignore the stuffy prick_ , he decided.

He rolled his eyes at the sound of the chimes when he entered the house. At least they had stopped putting ball bearings on the floor.

“Come on in,” Jester said cheerfully, practically skipping into the room. “Caduceus is still in the kitchen. You are a little early, Essek. Is it because you’ve missed us?”

He only managed a polite little laugh before more people entered the room. He felt a twinge of disappointment when he didn’t see the wizard among them, but he nodded with a smile.

“Sup, Essek?” Beau greeted him, stone-faced. “Want something to drink?”

The half-orc elbowed her in the ribs, as he coughed “Face!” into his fist. The monk’s face transformed into a pinched smile, which, combined with her intense stare, was truly disconcerting.

“I meant to say… Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

He bit his tongue before saying something snarky. He was a guest, and she _was_ trying after all.

“Thank you, Beauregard. That would be lovely.”

It was hard not to laugh when the expositor of the Cobalt Soul fist pumped and grunted a “fuck yeah!” through her teeth. He maintained a polite smile, but the corners of his mouth did twitch slightly.

He took a seat at the table she had pointed to and, despite there being more chairs than needed, Jester chose the one directly on his left, sitting almost uncomfortably close.

“So, what were you doing when I sent you my message?” she asked with a cheeky grin. “Were you-”

“I was working on something,” he replied before she got the chance to imply something embarrassing.

She snorted. He should really be more careful with his wording around the tiefling, he reminded himself. His gaze dropped down and he noticed the purple tablecloth. So she _was_ asking about his colour preference after all. That was a relief.

“Hope you don’t mind that we interrupted your _research_ ,” Fjord interjected, giving the laughing cleric a pointed look. Oh, thank the Luxon.

“No, not at all,” he said with a smile. “I was just doing some reading.”

“Ooh, I’ve been reading something too!” Jester perked up. “It’s a love story called _Bringing Home the Beacon_ , and it’s about this drow noble, waiting for his beloved to be reborn and remember him! He thinks it might be this girl, but she’s too young, and he isn’t sure, and it’s _so_ _sad_ , Essek! Have you read it?”

“No, I am quite certain I have not.”

“Oh, but you should! I cried so much at the end! I couldn’t sleep all night!”

“And neither could I,” said Beau, putting a greenish cocktail in front of Essek. He nodded a thanks and started sipping immediately.

“Do you cry when you read sad books Essek?” Jester asked tilting her head like an eager puppy, making him almost choke on his drink.

“I don’t generally read this kind of literature…”

“I mean, Jester told me the story and read some parts out loud,” Beau shrugged. “It honestly wasn’t half bad. Not enough smut though.”

“Ooh! Do you prefer smutty books, Essek?” The tiefling was fully in her element now, her tail swinging wildly behind her. “I’ve just started reading another one by, uh, Ka-ril-tha Isilre… or Isilme? The title is _The Light of Eternity_ and it doesn’t sound very smutty, but I think that, tech-ni-cally, it’s a metaphor for an orgasm.”

She lowered her voice and wriggled her eyebrows, and the awkwardness of it all was almost physically painful. He tried not to comment on the originality of the metaphor, or on the fact that the author’s name was the equivalent of “Chastity Moonlight”. Usually, Widogast would say something to change the subject by this point. He really wished he were here, for more reasons than one.

As if on cue, the door to the dining room opened, and he turned to look, perhaps a bit too excitedly. He didn’t remember Caleb being that tall, though, or an Aasimar for that matter.

“Oh, hello Essek.” It was always jarring to hear how soft and quiet Yasha’s voice was for a hulking wild woman. “I’m sorry that I took so long, Jester, they were a little hard to find.”

She was holding an armful of flowers and extended them to Jester, who jumped up from the chair and kissed the pale bicep with a loud _mwah_.

“They are per-fect, thank you Yasha!”

The blush that coloured the barbarian’s cheeks didn’t escape Essek’s notice. _Must be awfully inconvenient, having such an indiscreet skin tone,_ he mused.

The tiefling seemed completely oblivious to that, though. She threw the flowers into a vase and plopped back down next to Essek.

“Do you like them? They are…”

“Purple. Yes. They are delightful, Jester.”

He was surprised at how strangely warm he felt inside when the round blue face lit up even more. The door opened once again and in came another large figure, carrying platters of vegetables, cheeses and mushrooms.

“Make room! More food is coming!”

“It smells great, Ducey!” Nott bared her teeth in a smile, then glanced at the door. “Is Caleb going to be here, soon?”

_Yes, Luxon, please let him be here soon._

“I can message him,” Jester offered and, without waiting for anyone’s reply, proceeded to cast the spell. “Hiii Cay-leb! Are you on your way back to the Xhorhaus? Caduceus is almost ready and we’re waiting for you! Essek is here, and he missed you!”

Beau snorted, but the tiefling raised a hand to shush her, clearly focusing on the reply. Essek felt a little bit of heat rise on his cheeks, but he had been keeping count and, fortunately, the last two words did not go through. He was just a little curious what words would come to Caleb’s mind first.

“He will be here in a few minutes,” Jester announced triumphantly and then gave Essek a mischievous smile, “and he missed you too.”

“So,” he changed the subject immediately, “how long will you be staying in Rosohna?”

“Not very long,” Fjord remarked, his voice somewhat tired. “We have a few errands to run in the city tomorrow, and we should be leaving the next morning.”

“Oh.”

There was a hint of disappointment in his voice, and he quickly cleared his throat to mask it.

“Well, should you need any help with those errands, or a lift wherever you’re going…”

“That is very kind of you, Essek,” the half-orc gave him a warm smile. “I think we should be fine, though.”

The uncomfortable feeling grew, lodging itself in Essek’s chest, much to his dismay. There was no reason to be unhappy with this turn of events. He didn’t need to teleport them all over the continent or navigate another meeting between them and the Bright Queen. He could take care of his own ventures and work in the quiet of his study. _Besides, if Caleb isn’t terribly busy tomorrow_ …

The door opened once again, and he cursed silently, seeing the dishevelled pinkish mane, but soon the firbolg moved and revealed a second figure standing at the threshold. _Finally_.

“Look who I found,” Caduceus murmured happily and moved towards the table, carrying a steaming tureen. “I hope there is room for my soup?”

There was a bit of shuffling, plates being moved, and soup being poured, and finally everyone had sat down, including Caleb who, by a stroke of luck, chose the seat directly facing Essek.

“Hallo,” he offered with a winning smile. Essek thought this man’s charm would be extremely dangerous if weaponized. And then remembered that it almost had been. “I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

 _Oh, but it was so worth the wait_ , Essek thought to himself, but just nodded politely.

“Did you find a good place, Cay-leb?”

Essek gave Jester a quizzical look, but she was just fixing Caleb with her eyes. To his surprise, the man blushed violently.

“I, uh…”

It was rare for Widogast to be at a loss for words. And why was he so flush?

“If you are in need of some kind of service, perhaps I could be of assistance,” he offered, but the man didn’t meet his gaze.

“It is, perhaps, a little inappropriate,” Caleb began sheepishly. “A while ago, Jester made the acquaintance of an elderly bugbear gentleman…”

“He was a gnoll,” Beau offered, her mouth half-full of cheese.

“ _Ja_ , excuse me, an elderly gnoll gentleman who is also a follower of her patron,” he continued, carefully choosing his words.

Even more peculiar was the expression on Jester’s face – where there usually would be enthusiasm and pride at the first mention of her deity, there was confusion, her mouth open and her brow furrowed gently.

“…and they have been looking for a place that could be used as a shrine of sorts… and a sign for other potential believers…”

“Travellerers?” Beau interrupted.

“Travellerites?” Nott offered.

“Future followers of the Traveller,” Caleb picked up pointedly. “Jester asked me for help to make sure it isn’t terribly disrespectful to the customs of the Dynasty.”

He finished and gave Essek an apologetic look before moving his gaze to meet Jester’s, his expression almost… pleading?

“Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, though it wasn’t very convincing. “Do you have a place that you could recommend, Essek?”

His eyes rested on Caleb’s face and he felt an unpleasant twist in his stomach. The man looked uneasy and tense. Something weird was happening.

“Um… hah… Jester, I can’t say I would feel comfortable facilitating this endeavour,” he said, still watching the redheaded man carefully. “The Dynasty is much more understanding than the Empire when it comes to different religions, but I don’t think your particular brand of worship would be… suitable for the public spaces of Rosohna.”

Caleb finally looked at him again. He smiled gently, but the smile seemed practised. More than usual, at least.

“That is precisely why I got involved and took a walk on the outskirts. Obviously, it can’t be done in the Firmaments, but perhaps in some hidden alley in the Coronas…”

“Perhaps,” Essek answered, a bit tartly. “I’m afraid I cannot help you there, I am unfamiliar with the outer districts. So, have you found a suitable location in the Coronas?”

“A few. I will take you there tomorrow, Jester.”

 _Tomorrow?_ He took a breath to clear his head. _The day is long. That doesn’t mean anything necessarily._

“Speaking of tomorrow,” he began, then hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to _ask_ him to pay him a visit? Was he truly about to stoop that low? Well, too late now. “I have been reading a fascinating book on chronomancy that has given me some ideas lately. I could show you some of my notes if you’re interested.”

The man looked visibly torn, which placated Essek’s ego a bit, but he doubted he was going to like the answer.

“I would like that very much, but I’m afraid I have a full plate tomorrow.”

He sounded deeply uncomfortable, and Essek took a measure of satisfaction in that.

“Rain check?” the monk piped up, gesturing between the two of them with a fork.

“Of course,” Essek forced a smile and started cutting into a sizeable mushroom with a little too much vigour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated! <3


	2. An unexpected visit

He was fully absorbed in work, ensconced in a quiet corner of the Marble Tomes’ library, when Jester’s voice made him jump once more. The message was surprisingly matter of fact, aside from the silly melody at the end. She asked about the current moods in the Dynasty and updated him on their dealings with the Empire, making him wince with each familiar name – _Ludinus_ , _Trent_ , _Vence_. He was reminded once again of how quickly everything could go to nine hells if he wasn’t careful.

He took a deep breath before replying – a succinct message, not a word out of place. He could play it cool. There was no response – Jester must have exhausted her capabilities for the day – which meant no invitation and no pestering him for a favour. Plenty of time to focus on his research and plan his next moves. Good…? Yes. Good. He returned to the thick tome opened on his lap.

It was an interesting read and hours slipped by before he knew it. He would have gladly spent a few more delving deeper into the finer points of quantum fluctuation, if it hadn’t been for a rumble in his stomach – a pesky reminder that his body had needs of its own. He uncrossed his legs and groaned at the unpleasant tingling. He rose over the chair and glided towards the shelves. At least he wouldn’t have to deal with it until he got home.

He paused to glance out the window and almost landed on his feet. Caleb, Beauregard, Jester and Nott were standing outside of the building, the wizard handing over his medallion for inspection. So, they were in Rosohna? Jester managed to leave that _detail_ out of her message. Were they here to see _him_? Or had they contacted Waccoh without his knowledge? He should be doing a better job supervising them, he decided. And if he was honest with himself, he felt a tad resentful. He had got used to being their main contact in the city, tiresome as it was at times.

Well, he certainly wasn’t in the right mood to face them now. He left the library quietly and drifted down the stairs towards the main hall.

“Oh my gosh, you guys, this place is so cool!” the tiefling’s squeal echoed off the marble.

Essek stopped moving, hidden behind a column.

“I’m telling you, Lebby, this time we will make them let you into the library.”

“Nott…” Beau groaned.

“I’m telling you, it will stick.”

And just as soon as they appeared, they were gone behind the curve of the spiral staircase.

A voice popped up in his head. “Hiding from someone?”

He looked behind the semi-circular desk and met Suhria’s eyes, the drow woman regarding him with amusement. He decided not to dignify her question, and simply nodded his goodbye before heading straight for the door.

* * *

Sitting outside in his backyard, stretched out on a recliner, his stomach full and a glass of wine in his hand, he finally felt he was in the right frame of mind to think.

This had to stop.

He had every right to feel on edge in their presence, of course. They posed a threat to the entire operation, they pried, poked and prodded at everything, and had him do conspicuous things, not the least of which was postponing a scourger’s execution. He shuddered at the intrusive thought that nagged at him every day – they knew, they all knew, the Bright Queen knew, he was a dead man. He downed his glass and refilled it. Calm down. He had to calm down.

So yes, being nervous around the Nein was perfectly justified. It was the other thing that was getting ridiculous. The giddiness giving way to a childish disappointment when they didn’t seek out his company. The way his heartbeat picked up at the sight, at the thought even, of the redheaded Zemnian. And the sting of… rejection? No, that couldn’t possibly be the right word. More like… a lack of respect. He… _They_ didn’t understand that his time and presence were valuable gifts. Yes, that was it.

His ego somewhat soothed, he took a deep breath and relaxed into the chair. Alright then. He would get over these strange mood swings. If they didn’t respect his generosity, they would simply lose the privilege of benefitting from it. He would keep an eye on them, of course, as needed, but no more silly business.

He took another sip and closed his eyes for a moment when a knock shook him out of his thoughts. He sighed as he produced a small obsidian mirror from his pocket. He hesitated. Was it worth wasting a spell just to scry on his own front door? Then again, he wasn’t going to work any more before entering a trance. And he really didn’t feel like getting up. _Who in the nine hells…,_ he grumbled to himself. He traced a rune on the reflective surface and shifted his focus to look through the mirror, past the physical object and into its essence. To his dismay the image remained blurry to then disappear as a strange force pushed him back from his scry. That… That shouldn’t have happened. Not on his doorstep at least.

He pushed himself off the chair and soundlessly floated inside, his mind going a mile a minute, frantically searching for people he knew who were capable of evading divination. He did remember four, but he would rather that three of them weren’t knocking at his door.

Gingerly, he approached a small window near the front of the house, which gave him an angled view of his doorstep, and he peeked through the voiles. Judging by the hem of a dark purple coat and a fiery red ponytail, it was the fourth remaining option. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

It was unlike him to come by so late unannounced. Did he have some important information? Something confidential, something that couldn’t have been relayed through a sending spell?

The worrisome thoughts disappeared as soon as he opened the door and saw the younger wizard’s face. The man was beaming, his cheeks flushed and his blue eyes brighter than he’d ever seen them.

“Hello, Caleb. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“ _Gut_ evening, Essek, I apologize for showing up without notice, do forgive my lack of manners,” he said, his voice betraying decidedly more excitement than regret. “May I come in?”

“Of course.”

He moved aside, eyeing the human up and down, intrigued. He summoned two chairs with a subtle wave. “Please, have a seat.”

“ _Danke_.”

Caleb flashed him a charming smile. There was something different about it. It was less practised, less controlled, it seemed almost childlike in its transparency. It was the face of a boy who’d just got away with mischief or who’d just been given his first pet.

“So,” he started, crossing his arms and leaning back a bit. “What brings you here? What do you require?”

“I’m afraid I do have a favour to ask, but I hope that, compared to what you have already done for us, you won’t find it too much of an inconvenience…”

_Courteous as always_ , Essek laughed to himself, then cleared his throat to stop the rapid stream of words.

“ _Ja,_ I’m sorry, I’ll get to the point,” Caleb blushed a deeper shade of pink. “I have been granted access to the library at your esteemed conservatory,” he announced in a voice more fitting for a young girl showing off an engagement ring. “But I am only allowed there for three hours…”

_That is not much_ , Essek thought, raising an eyebrow, but he didn’t get the chance to speak.

“…which is fine because I am quite a fast reader, but I would love to get the most out of my short time there. I think that I could reasonably read three books, maybe four shorter ones, but I don’t want to waste that time walking among the shelves and guessing the content of books by their titles alone. So I would very much appreciate any recommendations that you could give.”

Finally done, or perhaps simply out of breath, Caleb was now quiet. Essek steepled his fingers and studied them for a moment.

“I suppose I could give you some titles, depending on your particular interests,” he hummed. “And any restrictions that will surely apply, even if you have been granted entry.”

He almost laughed looking back up at Caleb, who now resembled a particularly eager puppy.

“Speaking of which. How did you gain access to the library?”

“Oh, we uh…” he stuttered, averting his gaze. “We managed to retrieve a sigil of sorts. The professor thinks it might have been used to protect a Xhorhassian war machine a long time ago. It wasn’t in one piece, but it gave off a faint glow when I detected magic.”

“Curious. Where did you find it?”

A strange tension crossed Caleb’s features.

“In the Ghostlands.”

“Huh. An unusual place to visit in your spare time,” Essek quipped, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to smile. Something about all of this filled him with unease.

Why would they venture into the Ghostlands? And why were they toying with military equipment? Wasn’t that the sort of thing they’d normally seek his council for? Were they working directly for Waccoh? Were they up to something? Gathering intel for the Empire, for the monk’s order perhaps? Has Ikithon finally double-crossed him as he’d feared? Did they not tell him because they knew?

He realised too late that he’d worked himself up into a minor panic attack. His face was tingling unpleasantly and his chest was tight. He didn’t know when, but he’d landed on his feet. Keep it together, Essek. Sit down. Close your eyes. Breathe.

But the thoughts didn’t let up. He came here because he knew. He had to know. And now he could see him in this moment of weakness. It was the perfect time to strike.

Maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t. But he would find out in time. Hells, in his current state, Essek was close to telling him right then and there. He should tell him to leave. Soon.

“Essek? Are you okay?”

Something about the softness of Caleb’s voice made him look up at his face. He studied him closely, looking to find a suspicious smile, a hint of danger, but all he could see was concern and, after another moment of silence, recognition.

“Can I come closer?”

Closer? Why would he…

“I… I think I know what you’re feeling right now,” came the answer to his silent question. “And although I can’t believe I’m telling you this, I have found that a… physical presence,” he paused and blushed anew, “usually helps me come out of it.”

The confusion mixed with the panic still running through his veins must have shown on Essek’s face because a deep line of worry appeared between Caleb’s brows.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Essek, I am your friend. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

And as if to prove his point, Caleb leaned back against the chair and waited in silence, his stillness a complete opposite, almost an affront, to the hive of thoughts buzzing in Essek’s mind. _He knows. That’s why he showed up unannounced, to catch me. He knows. Or he will know. My skin is too tight. Why is he here?_ He felt an electric energy run along his fingers, and he had the terrifying thought of unwillingly casting a spell out of fear. Was that even possible?

“What…” he started, then winced at the croak in his voice. “What would the physical presence… entail?”

“Whatever you need,” Caleb replied, looking away. “I… Jester, Nott and Caduceus are very fond of hugs, but um… sometimes I just hold on to Beauregard’s shoulder and it helps.”

Essek dismissed the idea of the hug immediately in his mind, but the shoulder… As thin as Caleb was, he now seemed like a rock in comparison with Essek who felt… floaty. _Floaty fuck_ – Fjord’s voice echoed in his head. Annoyingly apt.

Unable to bring himself to speak, Essek gave a little nod. There was no reaction on Caleb’s face, not a smile, not pity, nothing. He just scooted his chair over his way, close enough for Essek to reach him, but not so close as to crowd in on him. Tentatively, with a slight shake to his hand, he grabbed the human’s shoulder. It was solid, if a little bony. It was something to hold on to.

“Let’s try something, okay? An experiment,” Caleb said, still not making eye contact.

Essek nodded tentatively.

“You… You probably have a lot of thoughts now. And it’s hard to silence them,” Caleb spoke slowly and quietly. “Try to… focus on your senses. You don’t have to speak if it makes you feel awkward, but name the things you see, hear, feel. Describe them to yourself. It may sound strange, but it could help.”

Strangely, for what felt like the first time in his life, Essek wanted to do as he was told. Cursing his vulnerable state – _he could get him to do so much right now!_ – Essek obeyed.

Things he could see… The marble floor. Cold beneath his feet, even through his thin slippers. The hem of his black robe. To see more he would have to lift his head and he didn’t feel ready to move much. Things he could hear… He paused for a second before putting the thought into words. He could hear Caleb’s breath. It was steady. He focused on that rhythm for a moment. He turned his head slightly towards him. Caleb’s coat was purple. Purple. Was that because he was trying to… _No! Stop it!_ It was just purple. His boots were nice. Tasteful grey. He could feel Caleb’s arm… He doubted he was supposed to list things about Caleb only.

At that last thought, he was able to smile, and he realised his breathing had slowed down. He still felt shaky and almost fragile, so much so that he considered leaning against Caleb’s side for a second, but he shook his head and took a deep breath.

“Better?”

He nodded. _This is where you should thank him_ , he chided himself, and he opened his mouth, but no words came out. Second after second, fear was leaving his body, making room for a wave of embarrassment. This was entirely inappropriate. He was the Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty, four times the human’s senior, and yet he was holding on to him like a child learning how to walk. If he had to verbally thank him for this, he would most certainly die of shame.

“I want to thank you, you know.”

Essek almost jumped at the words. That certainly didn’t make sense.

“You have done so much for us. Your work is so important, and you have so much on your plate, but you always find the time to help us, sometimes with trivial things that we truly shouldn’t bother you with. It’s no wonder you feel overwhelmed.”

“You have asked a _considerable_ number of favours,” Essek laughed quietly. “One day I _will_ collect.”

“Of course. Anytime.”

There was a beat of silence, long enough for Essek to wonder if his heartbeat picking back up was a sign of another wave of panic.

“You have been a wonderful guide to this foreign land, Essek. And a good friend. Thank you.”

He didn’t know, Essek realised. He couldn’t possibly know, no one who knew could look at him with those eyes, could stand his presence, much less welcome it and appreciate it. He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure why that thought made his eyes prickle. He noticed he was still gripping Caleb’s shoulder and quickly let go of it.

_One day he will find out,_ he reminded himself. _He will know and he won’t want anything to do with you._

He looked up at the man’s face. There was no judgment, no acknowledgment of the fact that this situation was unusual or embarrassing. There was just a patient smile.

_But he doesn’t know yet._ The thought slipped into focus from what Essek could only assume was the most selfish, self-indulgent corner of his mind. _You might as well make the most of it and enjoy his company while he offers it._

He touched the skinny shoulder again, softly this time.

“Why don’t you join me in the garden for a glass of wine? I think I’ve remembered some titles you might enjoy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! <3


	3. An unexpected feeling

He didn’t hold out much hope of seeing Caleb the next day, so he shouldn’t have felt so disappointed.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself. There was no news from the Nein the next day, week, two weeks. Which was fine. Perfectly fine, they were a bunch of busybodies anyway, and Essek had matters to attend to. Plenty of them, in fact. Between his work at the Marble Tomes, his private research, his diplomatic duties, and contacting… wizards, he was beginning to run himself a little ragged. Not that he let it show of course – he hadn’t spent over a hundred years establishing an image to let it slide because of a bit of fatigue. No, no, Essek Thelyss looked immaculate, clad in fabulous robes, not a hair out of place, golden jewellery adorning his ears.

He thought he looked particularly stunning on the day of the Bright Queen’s council – he would have to spend hours in the throne room, after all. So there he was – drop-dead gorgeous and bored to tears. To be fair, boredom was better than the constant tension that he felt whenever political and military matters were discussed. Still, hours of maintenance – discussing the Dungeon of Penance, agriculture and supplies – it was torture in its own right.

A sudden murmur amongst the dens shook him out of his stupor. Had he missed something? Was something actually going to happen today? He felt almost excited until he noticed genuine worry on the faces of the lords and ladies of the court. There was a slight commotion, then a guard stepped out from behind the nobles, knelt and, beckoned forward, approached the throne. He whispered something to the Queen and the Dusk Captain, then rushed out of the room, followed quickly by a file of soldiers.

The council resumed, though everyone was visibly distracted and whispers continued among the dens. Soon, the guard came back, with far less urgency, one ear twitching in embarrassment or annoyance. His curiosity piqued, Essek murmured an incantation and cast a spell on the guard, inviting himself into the whispered conversation.

“Report,” the Dusk Captain ordered dryly. The guard cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“I apologize Umavi, Captain, our initial alarm was unwarranted. The people who teleported into our subterranean chambers were the Mighty Nein.”

“You stormed in here claiming that they were unfamiliar hostile Dwendalian spies with a large aggressive beast. This seems at odds with your new report, soldier. Explain.”

The Captain’s voice was quiet, but steely, and Essek almost felt sorry for the guard.

“They um… They were wearing Dwendalian clothing and their faces were changed by a spell. A halfling, which we now know was the goblin, was aiming her crossbow at everyone indiscriminately and kept yelling that she was going to kill everyone.”

It took all of Essek’s self-restraint not to roll his eyes. To his horror and delight, the guard kept talking.

“The halfling goblin accidentally fired her crossbow at one of her companions, hitting him in his hind quarters, at which moment he became invisible and dropped his staff, releasing a swarm of angry beetles. Our guards tried to intervene and subdue what they thought was a group of intruders, but one of them, the tiefling, was transformed into a panther and acted aggressively.”

“You may stop talking, soldier.”

Essek schooled his features as well as he could, but he couldn’t help a small twitch in the corner of his mouth. The Nein were harbingers of chaos, bringing disorder everywhere they went – but they were also immensely entertaining when he wasn’t the one to clean up their messes.

He dismissed the spell and focused on the whispers and murmurs around him instead. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who had been eavesdropping.

“It’s about the imperial pests.”

“Lord Khezren, this is no way to talk about the ones who returned one of the beacons…”

“And how would you have me talk about them? Two of them are humies!”

“Uncle, you are embarrassing me!”

“Who are we talking about?”

“The… something nine?”

“The Mighty Nine?”

“But there’s seven of them…”

“Are they the ones with the half-orc in the bathrobe?”

Essek smiled. He would be sure to mention to Fjord what a lasting impression he’d made. He was going to receive a message soon anyway.

* * *

But there was no message. Not on the day of the council, not the next day or the one after that. Not even a short one to let him know they’d arrived. Admittedly, they might have – correctly – assumed that he already knew. How could he not after that stunt? But it would have been nice to hear from them. Especially, though he was loath to admit it, from Caleb. He had been anxious to see him for a long time, he knew that to be true, but that feeling only grew in its burning intensity after their last meeting.

Caleb saw him at his most vulnerable, or rather as vulnerable as Essek would ever let himself be seen. And later that evening, there was a connection between them, was there not? They talked for hours about books – first about the tomes at the conservatory, but soon they moved on to their favourites, including some fiction and poetry. They even shared a laugh over Jester’s smut – Caleb’s memory allowed him to recite entire passages, and with enough wine he became a decent actor. It must have been at that point that the alcohol truly did its magic because he recalled Caleb attempting to teach him some Zemnian, and though he made an effort, his pronunciation was apparently awful enough to make Caleb cry with laughter. In fact, he was sure he even snorted once. The best part, however, was when Caleb saw Essek’s crestfallen face and resorted to doing awful impressions of his friends to placate him. It worked a treat. And a relaxed, laughing Caleb was not only beautiful – he was endearing.

After seeing him like this, it was hard not to look forward to seeing him again. Hard not to hope he wanted to see him too. As if he didn’t have enough problems already, Widogast was no longer an obstacle, no longer even an intriguing mind behind an attractive face. There were feelings involved, and Essek truly wished there weren’t. Because now it was clear that their silence wasn’t just offensive to him. He felt hurt. And there was far less pride in that. It wasn’t a good look on him.

After a while, the old nagging thoughts came back to haunt him too. Maybe he thought him weak after his moment of panic? Maybe he only stayed for the book titles? Or because he hoped that wine would loosen his tongue? He analysed every word he remembered to make sure he hadn’t let anything slip. He was probably safe, he decided. But the uneasiness persisted.

* * *

Caleb did show up at his doorstep, five days after the incident in the Lucid Bastion, while Essek was having a light breakfast. He looked sheepish, his eyes flitting between Essek’s face and the floor. Was he going to apologise for not checking in earlier? Something stirred in Essek’s chest as he studied the human’s face when suddenly he found himself with an excited tiefling hanging from his neck.

“Hiii, Essek!” Jester squeaked as she squeezed him even tighter. “Did you miss us?”

 _Yes_ , Essek thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to give voice to the feeling. He wasn’t the affectionate sort, he told himself. But they were here, Jester warm and cuddly as always, and Caleb still sending him timid looks which made him want to gather him into his arms instead.

“Give him the ring, Cay-leb” the tiefling urged, not waiting for his reply. “Cay-leb has something he would like to show you.”

“Oh?” Essek raised an eyebrow. “Let’s see it, then.”

“I… I hate to trouble you with this again…” Caleb’s voice turned into a mumble as he fished a ring from his pocket. “I’ve tried to identify it, and it seems to be transmutation which is my area of specialty, but I can’t quite figure it out. I don’t want to dispel it yet because it might be useful…”

 _That’s what you’ve come here for_ , he thought to himself. _Funny how a sigil of historical importance led you to Waccoh, but an identifying errand brought you here._

“So you want me to do the work for you,” he huffed, disappointment and frustration rising in his throat. “Why am I not surprised…”

He ignored the worried look the other two exchanged, and he focused on the ring. It gave off a magical aura which hinted at transmutative qualities, but it didn’t seem powerful enough to do any harm. Widogast could have easily tested it himself by simply wearing it – the risk was minimal.

Well, if his inquisitiveness was lacking, Essek’s most certainly wasn’t. He put the ring on his finger and felt a strange tingling on his chin and upper lip. He saw Caleb’s eyes open wide, and soon Jester burst out laughing.

“Oh, Essek! You look like a little old man!”

Essek rushed to the mirror in his hallway and froze. His face was covered in white hair which lengthened steadily, forming a beard and a curled moustache. He gasped, a noise he would never admit to, and he turned to pierce Caleb with his eyes. The slight twitch in the corner of his mouth was particularly infuriating.

“So, is this another precious artifact that you found wandering through the Ghostlands?”

“Oh! So you’ve told him?” Jester’s face lit up, as she turned to face Caleb who paled and opened his mouth, but made no sound. Essek felt his patience leaving him quickly.

“If you are referring to your little arrangement with professor Waccoh, then yes, I am aware of it. I doubt if she will find this glorious discovery particularly useful or interesting, though.”

“I apologise, Essek, I…” Caleb managed to speak up. “I should have been more thorough when inspecting this item. I shouldn’t bother you with such trivialities.”

“Indeed, you shouldn’t,” Essek snarled and stifled a smile seeing the human’s face fall. “Maybe next time you can inconvenience someone else with your failings. I would love to hear what the professor would have to say about that.”

“I…” Caleb started and then clenched his jaw and sighed. “I apologise.”

“Oh man…” Jester piped up with a pout. “This is probably not a good time to ask you for another favour, is it?”

“We shouldn’t impose Jester, this is too much…” Caleb all but whispered, but Essek’s hackles had already risen. Might as well indulge in some more indignation.

“No, no, do tell. What else do you require of me at this hour? Perhaps I can squeeze it in between all the pressing matters I have to take care of today,” he fumed.

“Well… we need to get to this place in the Crystalsands Tundra, and…”

“And you would like me to waste a powerful spell, or possibly more, to send you from place to place until you decide that this particular spot in the middle of nowhere is to your liking? Forgive me if I’m not enthused.”

“Oh, Essek…”

“Depending on where you want to go, the Crystalsands Tundra is not a long journey from Uthodurn. Which I believe you have access to, given that you have a wizard in your midst – or do you need help with that little errand as well?”

Something hardened in the redhead’s expression, but he said nothing, shaking his head instead.

“Wonderful,” he gave an unpleasant smile. “Then I believe your problem is solved.”

“But we could hang out? Don’t you want to spend some time with us, Essek?”

 _Yes, don’t you want that?_ asked a small voice at the back of his head, but it was too late to back down.

“I am very busy and _thoroughly_ uninterested. But thank you for offering.”

The tiefling looked to Caleb, but he was just staring at the floor, his jaw tense. She pouted.

“Well, since you’re sooo busy, I guess we will leave now.”

Her eyes seemed to search him for any hesitation, so he lifted his chin and gave a forced smile.

“Yes, please. I would love nothing more.”

“Of course,” Caleb spoke up again. “I apologise for the intrusion and for taking up so much of your time. _Bis später_ , Essek. _Komm_ , Jester.”

There was an edge to his voice that Essek found both saddening and intensely satisfying. The tiefling sent him one last unhappy look, then turned around on her heel and followed Caleb out the door.

He felt his satisfaction vanish quickly. No. No, he was upset and he had every right to be. They were using him for meaningless tasks, and they showed up unannounced, _again_. He slipped the ring off his finger and chucked it across the room. The hair softened and he was able to brush it off his face, his black robe now a complete mess. He was angry. Yes. Angry. That was just the word. He tried to ignore the quiet voice which was now calling him an idiot. He didn’t regret his attitude at all. He didn’t feel like finishing his breakfast because he was so _furious_. Definitely not because he felt shame slowly seeping into his mind. The sweet little pink parasol he saw out of the corner of his eye as he left the room did _not_ make the feeling worse. Preposterous idea.

* * *

The denial didn’t hold up for long. Soon, the anger was gone and regret was quick to replace it. It was such an unfamiliar sensation. It started creeping up on him as they kept showing him care and kindness, and the realisation hit him that he’d managed to betray them before he even got to know them. With time, the feeling grew in intensity, and it made itself at home, occupying large portions of his mind. He caught himself regretting smaller things too, inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Like when he saw Jester’s face after he’d told her she had nothing of worth to teach him. He thought he was being honest. So why did her reaction gnaw at him for so long?

And now this. He’d felt so justified in the moment, but the more he revisited the conversation, the more childish his behaviour seemed. He winced as he remembered the satisfaction he felt when he saw the effect his words had on Caleb. And the tiefling… He hurt her again. And she’d only ever been kind to him.

He had another nagging thought. One that told him that all of that didn’t matter. That soon enough they would find out what he’d done, and then whatever he’d said in anger would be meaningless, compared to the horrors he’d caused. They would want nothing to do with him, or worse, they would try to kill him.

 _Well, if you swallowed your pride, you could at least enjoy their company while it lasts_ , the voice came back and he knew it was right. He’d already apologised once, and it went fairly well. Maybe he could repeat that experiment with similar results.

* * *

Of course Beau had to be the one to open the door. And, judging from the expression on her face, she had heard about what an asshole he had been. _Fantastic_.

“Sup. What do you want?” she asked, not even bothering to smile this time.

“Hello, Beauregard. I…” He hesitated and breathed to maintain his composure. “The last time I spoke with some of your friends, I was… less than cordial. I would very much like to make it up to them, if they let me.”

Beau’s eyebrows shot up, and a smirk appeared on her face.

“Shit, man, spare me the details. I assume you’re here to see Caleb?”

“Y-yes. If he has the time.”

“Caleeeb! The Shadowhand wants to talk to you!” she bellowed into the house, leaving him at the threshold, and soon a familiar freckled face appeared in the room.

“ _Hallo_. I assume Beau didn’t think to invite you in?”

Normally, he would make some kind of smug comment, but it didn’t feel right this time. He simply smiled politely.

“Please, come in. We can sit in my study if you’d like.”

He followed, feeling strangely shy, and hoping to himself there would be no more witnesses on the way. He breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them. Caleb pulled out a chair and gestured to it with a nod, to then perch at the very edge of his own seat.

“Well then,” he said and cleared his throat. “What can I do for you, Shadowhand?”

It was entirely unlike Essek to feel worse upon hearing his official title. These people had truly opened up a whole new world of uncomfortable feelings to him.

“I have come to apologise. I was unfair towards you, and I’m sure I have offended you with the things I said. It was my goal at the time, in fact. Which I now deeply regret.”

He didn’t want to look the younger wizard in the eye. There was no audible reaction, so he decided to keep talking.

“I honestly couldn’t tell you how many times I have failed to notice something that was right under my nose. It happens to the best of us, and pointing that out as if it were a sign of a lacking intellect was entirely uncalled for,” he continued, feeling his ear twitch in embarrassment. “I… You have impressed me many times with what you can do, especially given the limited time and resources you had at your disposal. I respect you as an arcanist, Caleb, and… I value you as a friend.”

The tips of Caleb’s boots entered his field of vision, and soon there were thin arms around his neck. Instinctively, he made a small move to recoil, but decided to accept the embrace and relax into it. He was no expert, but it seemed like an especially awkward hug – Caleb was standing, bent over in what had to be an uncomfortable position, his arms a little stiff and his chin digging into Essek’s shoulder. Still, it was a gesture of forgiveness, he reckoned, and it felt good. That was far less humiliating than he’d feared.

“There you are!”

Spoke to soon. Jester was standing in the doorway, smiling radiantly at the two of them. And, of course, Beauregard was right behind her, looking smug. Well, _vith_.

To his credit, Caleb jumped and straightened up as soon as he heard a voice, but judging by Beau’s shit-eating grin, she had seen everything.

“Hello, Essek,” Jester’s voice was sweetness and light, no resentment to be found. “Do you want to hang out with us after all?”

“Ah, um, yes, you could say that Jester. I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“Oh?”

She was there next to him in the blink of an eye, visibly intrigued. Essek hazarded a glance at the door and, much to his relief, the monk was nowhere to be seen.

“Yes, I owe you an apology,” he said standing up to face her. “I’ve been… I…”

He felt so awkward. With Caleb, he could focus on their work, compliment his talents – that was something he at least had some experience with. With Jester, though… Here it was personal and he felt like a fool. _To hells with it. Might as well go all in_ , he decided and he slipped his finger into the ring in his pocket. Judging by the tickle under his nose and the look on Jester’s face, the magic worked as planned.

“I was an idiot. I’m sorry. I’ve been unfairly rude and mean to you on various occasions, and it’s high time I apologised for that.”

“Oh, Essek! It’s okay! You don’t have to have a stupid beard to make me feel better,” Jester giggled and gave him a peck on his now hairy cheek. “Thank you.”

“I um… I have gifts for you two,” he continued feeling the heat rising on his cheeks. He scanned the room to find Caleb doing his best to hide a wide grin and failing. “To hopefully make up for my behaviour.”

“A gift?” The tiefling’s face lit up even more. “Oh, oh, can I have the ring of stupid beards?”

“Sssure…” He managed, trying to swallow the second comment on the stupidity of what he had willingly put on his face. _Why_ did he do that, again?

“Oh, is that not what you had in mind?”

She looked slightly disappointed, and he hesitated a bit before speaking.

“No, but you can have it of course. Here.” He watched her put it on immediately, and he chuckled as a deep blue goatee appeared on her face. “Would you like to have the other thing I brought you?”

“Oh, of course! What is it? Is it pastries?”

“Jester,” Caleb laughed. “Let him tell you what it is. Otherwise he will have to bring you a ton of gifts each time you guess wrong. You know nobody can stand disappointing you.”

“Oh, right,” she nodded, then smiled mischievously. “But I could ask you for your robes. Or your spell book.”

“Hah, um, I, no, the spell book is staying with me, Jester,” he laughed nervously. “But you did guess correctly. I have brought you some pastries.”

With a movement of his wrist, the dimensional pocket opened, and he pulled out a plate full of cupcakes. Pride swelled in his chest when he saw her purple eyes grow wide.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve eaten these before.”

“The lilac ones have a flowery taste – the frosting has dusk bloom petals and a little wine. And the orange ones… You might want to give them to someone instead of eating them yourself. They are flavoured with fire lichen, and they are quite spicy. I thought that since you like practical jokes…”

He barely managed to freeze the plate in the air as Jester grabbed his waist and lifted him up, giving him a joyful spin before plopping him back down.

“They are per-fect, Essek! Where did you buy them?”

“I, um,” he mumbled, fixing his robes awkwardly. “I made them myself.”

“Oh my goodness, really?!” she exclaimed, and as he nodded, she gave him a cheeky smile. “But I thought you were _very_ _busy_ Essek?”

That caught him off guard, and he was about to make an indignant comment when she stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’m just fucking with you. Thank you for the cupcakes. I’m gonna give an orange one to Fjord.”

And she practically skipped out of the room, a spicy confection in her hand.

“Jester, what the hell is on your face?” he heard the monk’s voice, loud enough to be coming from just around the corner.

“Essek put a spell on me, and now I will have a beard forever. Do you like it? Oh, Beau, please tell me I’m still cute like this!”

“Uhh… yeah. Yeah, it’s suits you.”

“Thank you, Beau. Would you like a cupcake?”

The voices trailed off, and he was left alone with Caleb Widogast who was smiling at him approvingly.

“That was actually a perfect gift. Pastries and pranks. That’s all you need to make her happy.”

“The ring was unexpected, though.”

“Was it really?”

“That’s a fair point.”

There was a moment of silence as their eyes met and a comfortable warmth spread through his body, the connection he’d felt that night electric in the air again.

“As I said, I have a gift for you too.”

“Oh, that is unnecessary.”

“I insist.”

He gave Caleb one of his best smiles and reached into the pocket dimension once more, to pull out an old book.

“It’s nothing particularly interesting from an arcane point of view, I’m afraid,” he said, his eyes lingering on the worn cover as he handed it to Caleb. “But it has… sentimental value.”

“ _De Ssussun Bli’then,_ ” he read carefully voicing drow syllables. “ _Tales of the Light_. Wasn’t that your…?”

“Favourite childhood book, yes. I don’t find myself returning to it as much as I used to, and I feel that, though it might not hold much objective value to an arcanist, it could provide a more… intimate perspective of our culture and legends.”

There was something almost unbearably soft in the wizard’s expression. A hint of tenderness which was present in his voice as he spoke.

“That’s… unexpected,” he said, then quickly corrected himself. “I… I am honoured that you have chosen to share this with me. Thank you, Essek.”

There it was. His name. He was no longer addressing him as the Shadowhand. _What a strange thing to find comfort in_ , he mused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is cool, feedback is fun. It keeps ficcers writing the fics they've begun!


	4. An unexpected sight

There was a new understanding between them, a deeper one, almost palpable, begging to be confirmed by touch. He ached to hold him in his arms, to feel his weight against his chest, to hold his hand at least, guide it along the arcane equations of a spell.

Maybe they didn’t have to find out. Maybe it would all work out, and no one would ever have to know. He wouldn’t have to find out what Caleb’s face looked like twisted by hurt and betrayal. Maybe this could last, if not forever then at least for a time, and the fuzzy feeling which rose in his chest whenever he was near him wouldn’t have to go away. Maybe it could even grow?

He would have to live with his guilt, of course, just like he did now. He would still have the thoughts of being unworthy of trust, undeserving to be this man’s friend, much less something more. But perhaps staying close without ever truly getting what he really wanted, perhaps _that_ was punishment enough?

Caleb came by every once in a while to study in the quiet of his tower, share a story from the road, or ask his advice on a spell he was working on. He was visibly less shy about that last one, asking questions more freely, seemingly convinced there would be no judgment if the answers turned out to be obvious. He still turned red all the way to the rounded tips of his ears, but he apologised a little less, and Essek forewent his old chorus of “one day I will collect”. It didn’t seem right anymore. It was an exercise in trust, slowly learning to believe that if he required their help, he needed only ask, the argument of _debt_ no longer a necessity.

The one thing that remained unchanged was how uncomfortable Caleb looked at the mere mention of the Ghostlands. There had been a few instances where he seemed almost ready to say something, but he always changed the subject, and Essek let him. He recognized that stubborn streak in the younger wizard, and he had a good enough idea of his past to know that Caleb Widogast wasn’t a person one could force to talk. So it remained a mystery, and a nagging thought at the back of Essek’s mind. He developed a new mantra to deal with his intrusive thoughts, a litany of _they’re not scheming behind your back, they’re not scheming behind your back…_ _Unlike you_ , he would always add at the end and screw his eyes shut.

* * *

He promised himself he would only do it once.

He would have liked to think that he was doing it out of concern for Caleb, but he knew that wasn’t the reason. He told himself he was trying to ease his own worries, and even that thought was tinged with guilt at the mistrust that he couldn’t overcome. But if he was honest with himself, it was mostly curiosity. He simply could not stand not knowing.

And it was also the wine.

He’d got a message from Jester, and he asked if Caleb was interested in discussing a book in the evening. Jester’s slip of the tongue – _we’re… he’s busy_ – was enough of a hint. When asked, she reassured him that someone would be at the Xhorhaus, and that was all he needed to be sure. They were going there again.

Scrying was such a simple thing, and yet his face was burning and his hands were shaking slightly as he produced the obsidian mirror out of his pocket. It felt strange, almost like in his younger years, the rush of transgression, the excitement of discovery, mixed with a fear of getting caught and a pang of guilt. Except now, Essek knew what _real_ fear and guilt felt like. Decidedly less thrilling.

He squeezed his fist a few times to steady his fingers and traced the arcane rune. Scrying on Caleb specifically wouldn’t work, so he focused on Jester instead, as his vision sank through the shining black surface.

The image was blurred, so Widogast had to be near. He squinted and scanned the distorted landscape. They were in the Ghostlands beyond any doubt, somewhere deep, surrounded by skeletal remnants of a once-impressive building, a temple perhaps. He was startled by the thud of an old pillar collapsing, then gasped as a massive chunk of debris flew right by him. He could hear strange, animalistic noises, guttural, feral, crazed. And the most unsettling part was that Jester and Caleb were nowhere to be seen. A blurry smudge of a sharp claw or tooth entered his vision and he snapped out of the spell, the mirror shaking in his grasp.

The scry worked, so Jester _had_ to be there, alive. And Caleb must have been the reason for the distortions. But he couldn’t see them, hear them or even see any evidence of arcane or divine magic at work. Were they unconscious?

He frowned. These people got into trouble with such frequency and flair, it required actual skill. If they had marched into the Bright Queen’s throne room having fought her army, then _of_ _course_ they would wander into the Ghostlands, just the two of them, doing Luxon knows what, without telling him. Did they have a spare beacon to pull out on those beasts too?

_Should I send Jester a message? No, what if they cannot answer, what if they need my help, what if I need to fight…_

He could feel his breath quicken and his blood thrum in his temples. He would have to teleport there. He could do it, he saw the area well enough, he’d teleported to places based on description only.

He got up and his head spun as he tried to catch his balance. That was fine. That was perfectly fine, he could still do it. They needed him.

They would eventually figure out that he had scried on them, of course, but that was fine too. If he saved their lives, they surely wouldn’t mind.

And he would tell those freckled bugbear brains what he thought of their recklessness! They _did_ need him to survive in Xhorhas, apparently. If they were too dumb to take care of themselves, he would have to do it for them.

He steadied himself and focused on the vision as he drew the sigil in the air. He would save this impossible redhead and his friend, and he would never let them live this down.

The floor underneath his feet warmed and lit up, and he pictured the ruins, the pillar, the sky above. _At this point, I really should ask a favour in return,_ he thought to himself as the arcane energy reached its peak.

“Temep karif seh- *hic*!”

_Oh, no… Vith, vith, vith! Why now?!_

But he was already shooting through the portal.

* * *

The first thing to enter his consciousness was the splitting headache, and the thought that he must have seriously overdone the wine. But there was something else. There was movement. The ground beneath him was shifting, first side to side and then up, towards a large shape that he could barely make out through half-opened eyelids. A gust of hot air that smelled of barnyard animals blew into his face. Then another one. Almost as if it weren’t wind, but breath. An animal’s breath.

His eyes shot open at the realisation, and he found himself staring into the nostrils of a giant ruddy creature, its wide-open mouth uncomfortably close to his head. It let out a series of grunts, and grabbed his leg to swing him in the air and dangle him upside down. That was finally enough to shake him awake.

Closing his eyes to stop his head from spinning, he managed to recreate the hand motions in full swing and he thrust the accumulated energy towards the beast. It roared and dropped him, and the fall punched the air out of his lungs. The headache was getting worse and the impact would surely bruise. He batted his robes off his head and shot up to his feet. He reached out his hand and focused on severing the gravitational pull on the creature. He could feel the blood pumping through his veins. This was a heavy opponent, much harder to lift than a starved imprisoned spy.

The animal, an ape, was flailing its limbs in the air, making distressed grunts and trying to swim back to the ground. He had it where he wanted it. Now he just had to neutralize it, and he would look for Caleb and Jester. _Cautiously_ , he reminded himself. _There might be more of these around._ He searched the beast’s body for its most sensitive core and he focused his energy on it. He wouldn’t be able to crush it entirely, but stopping its heartbeat seemed within his reach. He drew his fingers ever so slightly inwards, drawing a roar out of the creature, when…

“Essek, no! Stop! That’s Cay-leb!”

 _Jester?_ He turned to see the familiar blue face, purple eye like two saucers, her hands outstretched towards him in protest. _Caleb?!_

“It’s Cay-leb! Look, he’s got red fur and blue eyes, see?”

It was hard to focus on the eye colour, as the giant ape kept flailing, more wildly and violently now, baring its teeth and reaching towards Essek. But the fur colour was… familiar.

“Why would Caleb be an ape?” he asked, unsure of whether he sounded insane or if everything else was.

“For fun! But now you made him angry. Tech-ni-cally he knows your scent and knows you are a friend, but you did attack him, you know?”

Caleb was an ape… for fun… And he knew his scent, but was angry now. That… that didn’t make sense.

“So, maybe don’t release him yet. I have another spell prepared, so I can turn into a mammoth again and I’ll protect you, okay? Just don’t hurt Cay-leb, and maybe don’t release him until I’m a mammoth.”

“Until you’re a…”

Had he drunk too much? Was that the problem?

Before he could answer that question, Jester expanded and sprouted long fur, to then stomp heavily towards the floating ape, or um, floating Caleb? She wrapped her trunk gently around the other beast’s neck and nuzzled her forehead into its head. Essek wasn’t sure if a mammoth could give a meaningful look, but that was as close to one as he could imagine, so he slowly lowered the panting animal onto the ground. It screamed at him and pounded its chest, but the mammoth held it gently at bay until it calmed down, staring at Essek warily.

Soon, Jester shrunk back down to her normal tiefling form and beamed at Essek.

“I think he’s okay now. Just don’t make any sudden movements for a while, okay?”

Essek nodded his understanding, although he felt that he understood very little. He didn’t like that feeling. He glanced at the ape, who was now sniffing and grunting quietly. If Essek had to guess, it was having a bit of a sulk.

“I thought you were… I thought you were in danger…”

He was supposed to save the day. He still wasn’t sure of what was going on, but that didn’t seem like an option anymore.

“Oh, Essek! Have you come to save us?” Jester cooed excitedly. “Cay-leb, our own knight in shining armour! He loves us so much, he came to rescue us!”

He always found it hard to decide if Jester was making fun of him. It sure seemed like it now.

“But how did you know where to find us?” she asked, not paying attention to his frown. “Oh my gosh, Essek, were you _scrying_ on us? Were you jealous? Oh, who were you jealous of? Me or Cay-leb?”

Oh, she was certainly mocking him now. This made no sense. She misspoke and confirmed that they were going to the Ghostlands again. And she messaged him first! And then her first thought was that he scried on them? She wasn’t wrong, but regardless, she came to that conclusion alarmingly fast. And they were just… an ape and a mammoth? Idling away in the Ghostlands? Sure. And they just _happened_ upon artifacts that they gave to Waccoh behind his back. And when he found out, they came to him with a worthless little ring, claiming it was from the Ghostlands. Did they find _that_ when they were playing with polymorph too? No. No, no, they were onto him. They didn’t trust him, they thought he was spying on them for political reasons, and they were either mocking him or they thought him stupid enough to fall for this lame excuse. They _wanted_ him to scry on them!

“You… You are pathetic,” he said, hoping to the Luxon they didn’t notice the slight tremble in his voice. “You are pathetic and you are wasting my time. I… Goodbye.”

He turned around and just started walking, too furious to float, and too upset to stand there and focus on a teleport spell right in front of them. He wasn’t sure where he was going or what the satisfactory distance would be until he tripped on the hem of his robe and almost fell flat on his face. _De’Lolth t'zarreth! That’s it!_

“Essek! Wait! What happened?”

That was the last thing he heard before he shot into the tunnel of light again. He noticed indignantly that his vision was a little blurry. He must have hit his head really hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback sustains me. Feel free to feed the ficcer.
> 
> **Drow glossary**
> 
> Vith - fuck  
> De'Lolth t'zarreth - Lolth's ass


	5. An unexpected truth

_Hiii, Essek! Are you okay? I’m sorry I said you were scrying because you were jealous. It’s probably because you’re lonely and you want to…_

He pinched the bridge of his nose to stop himself from cursing. How long would it take to get the tiefling to stop messaging him? He thought she was done when she said that he didn’t have to reply to her messages if he wanted to be a baby about this. He was _so_ close to answering her that time, several vicious comments right on the tip of his tongue, but he managed to stop himself. He had chosen the path of dignity. He wouldn’t let them provoke him.

It was incredibly frustrating, having to stay quiet until the sending spell dissipated. He could dispel it, of course, but why would he waste his energy on such nonsense?

He knew that soon enough he would have to interact with them again. The Bright Queen had assigned him as their official supervisor after all, and given the things they had divulged to him with little to no prompting, he wasn’t keen on letting anyone else handle that task. Still, he sincerely hoped she wouldn’t make any official requests of him in that regard for a while. He wasn’t ready to face them yet.

They actually showed up at his doorstep one day. Thankfully, he noticed them in time, so he instructed his servants to say he’d been gone for a while and they weren’t sure when he would come back. He then turned invisible, and leaned out the open window to take another look. It was the tiefling – of course – the half orc, and the firbolg. _They’ve left the most obnoxious one at home – how strategic of them! And Widogast is nowhere to be seen. Figures. Coward._

“But… but do you really not know where he is? Is he okay?” he heard Jester ask, her voice small and so, so sad. “Can you just… tell him that we like him very much?”

He bit his lip to stop himself from growling in frustration. It was impossible to tell if she was actively trying to humiliate him, or if it was just her natural talent.

Fortunately they left soon enough. Even more fortunate was the fact that they were too far to hear him yell “Out!” when his servant entered his study to deliver Jester’s “message”.

_Essek, I just want you to know that Cay-leb is really sad too. Maybe you could… Shhh! I’m messaging Essek! No, I didn’t tell him…_

Why would he care? Why would he care that Widogast was sad? Especially _right now_ when…

The voice appeared again, petulant and supremely annoyed.

 _Essek, Cay-leb wants me to tell you that he apologizes for wasting your time… Even though he did not_ _do that! You didn’t, Cay-leb! Stop…_

There. That was how much their apologies were worth. He could scream. He would scream if he were alone in the familiar quiet of his study, but now… He took a deep breath and smiled pleasantly, bowing his head.

“My deepest apologies, Umavi. As I was saying…”

The messages stopped after that. It was a welcome relief, but that was when the loneliness, this entirely new torturous feeling, truly started getting to him. He had more important things to worry about, of course. Soon his dealings with the Assembly would be over, the situation would calm down and perhaps, if he got really lucky, he would survive this mess he had got himself into. Quite frankly, it would be much easier to do that without these bumbling idiots getting in the way.

But he might _not_ survive. He might not get away with it. Fleeing the Dynasty, imprisonment, an execution, all of these were equally real possibilities.

And if that was to be his fate, he really wished he had invited Widogast for a glass of wine at least once more. Maybe they would grant him a visit as his last wish? Caleb would be repulsed by him, no doubt. Maybe he would even be assigned to torture the information out of him? After all, he did have some experience in the matter… He shivered at the thought.

Why would he even want to see him again? He either already knew and was toying with him, or he decided to mock him for some other inexplicable reason. To pay him back for all he has done for them, perhaps.

He rubbed his face with his palms. He was exhausted. He’d had a long day, frankly, a long year. He was so high-strung, a single mistake in his transcription could make him cry in frustration. And he was out of spells. It was high time he retired for the night.

He decided to forego his silken nightwear and just trance in his armchair for a bit. He would refresh himself in a few hours and go back to work. Just a moment of rest for now.

He had been having trouble sinking into the calm and emptiness of the trance recently, but exhaustion helped quiet his mind, and soon he found himself drifting away. He wished he could stay like this for a week, a month maybe. Stop running if only for a bit. It was so peaceful to float aimlessly in the void and effortlessly push unwanted thoughts away. The Assembly, Widogast, the Bright Queen, they all disappeared beyond the horizon.

And then a new thought appeared. A loud, insistent one, coming not from within his mind, but from outside. INTRUDER, it said, INTRUDER. It took him a second to realise what it was. The alarm spell. Someone had broken into his house!

He woke up from the trance, stifling a gasp. He was out of spells. He only had mere cantrips to defend himself. That and a few enchanted objects around the house, if he could get to them. He lifted himself and drifted towards the desk to retrieve a dagger from the drawer. If worst came to worst, he would have to use physical force. He didn’t like his chances quite as much in that scenario.

He slipped out of his study and floated down the stairs, dread twisting up his gut. Was it the Assembly? The Watch? The Lens? Had he been made? He tightened his grip on the dagger. He wouldn’t go down without a fight.

He could see a silhouette suspended in the air, caught in his multi-gravitational trap. He paused. What if it was an ambush? He carefully slipped a piece of jewellery off the tip of his ear and threw it to the other side of the room. It landed with a clatter. No reaction. Except for…

“Nice throw man. I totally couldn’t figure out it was coming from the staircase.”

Was that… He floated down carefully and squinted. The young human woman was wearing some strange ocular device and smirked at him, even though her muscles twitched, pulled in various directions at a rapid pace.

“Damn, Essek, that’s intense security you’ve got going on here. Are you expecting assassins, or are you just into weird shit?”

Yes, that was Beauregard without a doubt. Essek sighed with relief and slipped the dagger behind his belt. He was relatively safe. She _probably_ didn’t want to kill him – he would have liked to think that if they’d planned to do _that_ , they would have _all_ shown up to improve their chances. And she couldn’t dispel the effect.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk,” she said, her voice satisfyingly strained.

“I thought I made it abundantly clear I wasn’t interested.”

“Oh, you did. Shame that I don’t care.”

She was always the obnoxious one, but having her trapped and taut made her presence slightly more bearable. Essek smiled and paused to take in the sight.

“Do you feel the forces working on you randomly, or is there a prevalent source? I haven’t had the chance to gather feedback and calibrate the spell.”

She snorted.

“I’ll draw you a fucking diagram if you release me and turn on the lights.”

He huffed a quiet laugh and dispelled the forces suddenly, without warning. Judging by the noise she made, she didn’t land quite as gracefully as she’d planned. Pity.

“Now leave, before I call the watch and tell them there has been an imperial intrusion.”

“That’s terrifying,” she said, her voice thoroughly unimpressed, and she grabbed a chair for herself. “Will you turn on the lights, or do you want me to keep the goggles on? I don’t mind either way.”

With a snap, he summoned a light right in front of Beau’s face. She laughed again.

“You piece of shit. I knew you were gonna do that. I closed my eyes.”

She took off the goggles and blinked a few times, then slouched in the chair and crossed her arms. She raised an eyebrow expectantly. Essek didn’t move a muscle.

“Why are you avoiding Caleb?”

He felt like rolling his eyes. Instead, he smiled politely, if a bit unpleasantly.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about the farce in the Ghostlands?”

She frowned.

“So it _is_ about the Ghostlands? Fuck, I gave you too much credit. That’s fucked up, man.”

“I do not know what you are referring to, Beauregard.”

Either through sheer lack of manners, or to spite him personally, she kicked up her feet and put her heels on the armrest of another chair.

“It’s fucked up that you are judging him for this. I thought wizards were used to weird shit. And you know what he’s been through.”

With a subtle movement of his wrist, Essek moved the chair from underneath Beau’s feet, then floated a little closer.

“First of all, you are overestimating the amount of information I have about Widogast’s past. And whatever it is that he’s been through, I will not stand to be humiliated, and I won’t let him make a mockery out of me.”

Beauregard made a face that made him miss the goggles. They filtered out a part of the attitude.

“Who said anything about making a mockery out of _you_? If anyone is humiliated, it’s Caleb, because you decided to be a fucking asshole.”

“Is this about me scrying on them? Fine. I scried on them. Case closed, you can leave now.”

He turned on his heel with satisfying finality. He didn’t hear any noises though, and to his own dismay he found he wasn’t quite done talking.

“And if scrying on them makes me an asshole, then what do you call that ape and mammoth fiasco? I’m not stupid, Beauregard, I know they weren’t just taking a leisurely stroll through the Ghostlands, polymorphed into two giant animals. So what was it? Were they pretending to be in danger, to lure me in? Were they covering up whatever they’ve been doing there all this time? Frankly, I don’t care! If you people enjoy tricking each other into walking through the halls of the Lucid Bastion in a damn bathrobe, then by all means, keep making fools of yourselves, you excel at that! But I have a reputation to uphold, I have important business to take care of, and I don’t want any of your nonsense!”

The longer he spoke, the more infuriating Beau’s little smirk became. And now, she had the gall to give him a slow clap.

“That was an impressive monologue. Sorry if I started clapping prematurely, I was never made for high society. But I think you were done, right?”

Essek gripped the back of a nearby chair tightly.

“Leave.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Great. I just have one question, then. Has it ever crossed your mind that not everything is about you?”

The nerve of that woman, of that _child_ , to come, no, to break into his house and lecture him. He was speechless with rage.

“That looks like a no. Then let me enlighten you. This had nothing to do with you, Essek. There was no elaborate plan to humiliate you. This was entirely about Caleb’s well-being. And I don’t give a fuck if you believe me when I tell you that they were, in fact, taking a walk as an ape and a mammoth. What I do give a fuck about is that my friend is a mess because of your little tantrum.”

In his mind’s eye, he could almost see himself physically grasping at the shreds of his self-righteous anger that were left when Beauregard was finished. He wanted to be angry. She was the most insolent, unbearable human brat, the last person he wanted to yield to.

He sat down. He cleared his throat.

“What… What was that about Caleb’s well-being?”

The only thing that let him keep an ounce of dignity was the combination of dim lighting and his dark complexion. His cheeks were burning, and he didn’t know where to look. Beauregard wasn’t one to mince her words.

“And it fucking sucks, man, because it seemed to really help him. He even looked happy sometimes. At first, we were concerned he’d gone completely mad, but Jester assured us he was fine. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.”

Essek nodded. It was the easiest thing to do right now. It let him confirm that he was listening and following what she was saying, but he didn’t have to look at her or speak. She did plenty of that last one for him.

“We’ve been trying to encourage him to start doing it again, but he refuses. He keeps saying that it’s a waste of time and energy, and that it was foolish and childish of him. He thinks you are judging him for it. That you think he’s an idiot for doing what he could to take care of himself. And I truly don’t understand why, but he cares what you think of him.”

There was an unpleasant prickling behind Essek’s eyes that was driving him insane. _Collect yourself_ , he hissed internally.

“How bad is it?”

“It’s not good. He’s grumpy, he’s been letting himself go again, I caught him wrapping new bandages over his forearms recently… That conversation wasn’t pretty. He hasn’t been eating much, and he yelled at Cad when he tried to reason with him. And I’m honestly fine with him being grumpy, I can take it. But he hasn’t been able to focus on work either. And that’s a problem.”

Essek bit his lip. If only he had known how important this was. Then again, he wouldn’t have believed it. And they didn’t tell him to avoid this exact outcome.

“We’ve been doing our best to help him out, but he is fixated on this. You need to talk to him, man.”

Essek shook his head.

“He won’t believe me. He will think I’m lying to him, out of pity. He is too proud for that.”

“So what, you’re just gonna wash your hands of this mess like a…”

“No,” he interrupted before she could finish the sentence with _coward_ and send him either into a rage or hysterics. “I think I can help. But you have to convince him to go and… be an ape again. I can’t help you with that.”

She regarded him for a while, searching his face for any hint of falsehood, but finally she slouched back against the chair and crossed her arms again.

“Okay. What’s your brilliant plan?”

To his surprise, she didn’t laugh, hells she actually liked his idea. Without being asked again, she stood up and headed for the door, seemingly satisfied.

“Beauregard?”

“I will tip you off once we manage to talk him into it. Or, _if_ we manage to do that.”

“Of course. I…” he felt his face heat up again. “Please tell the others that I am truly sorry. I was foolish.”

“Yup. You were.”

He pressed his nails into his palm and took a breath.

“Glad we’re in agreement. But please, will you tell them I am sorry?”

“I will. If that’s any consolation, I’m probably the most pissed at you out of all of us. Although… I guess Nott would gladly tear you a new one.”

“I… do not doubt that.”

“Good. That’s smart of you.”

“Beauregard?”

“Mhh?”

“I am sorry to you as well. I know you care about him and…”

She winced a little as he said it. Apparently it was okay for her to show, but not okay for him to mention.

“Listen, man, we don’t have to be friends. You don’t have to like me, and I sure as hell don’t have to like you. But Caleb does, whether I like it or not. And if you hurt him again, I’ll kick your ass.”

 _You couldn’t_ , was his first thought, but he thought it wise not to voice it.

“And um… Jester…”

“Jester isn’t mad at you anymore. She’s just worried. Which is another reason for me to kick your floaty ass. But you can just bake her more cupcakes and she will be okay.”

“Um… thank you, Beauregard.”

“Keep your fucking promise. Don’t fuck me here!”

“I wouldn’t dream of…”

But she was already walking away. He closed the door with a sigh. He desperately needed to trance.

On his way upstairs he chewed on his cheek in thought. Polymorph… He hadn’t used the spell since he was practically a child. It had utility, of course, but mostly to frontline arcanists, those who were more interested in pragmatics than discovery. He’d never even considered that it could be used for… personal reasons.

He sighed as he sank back into his armchair. He would have ample time to choose a form and to refresh his memory on the technicalities. After all, it could take days before they managed to convince Caleb to do it again.

It took three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is greatly appreciated! :)


	6. The unexpected

Claws on dirt.

Wind in ears.

Running.

Stop. Smell. Big ape?

No.

Run. Stop. Smell. Nothing. Run.

Smell again. Small man… Small man smell! Follow. Running.

Smell different. Big ape. Friend. Close. Follow.

Noise! Strange roar? Danger? Smell. Big creatures. Big ape. Friends. Closer.

Fire fur. Sky fur. Here. Happy.

Sit. Tail around paws. Look. Blink.

Small man. Small man friend. Blink.

Small man closer. Purr.

“Essek?”

Blink. Purr. Small man friend.

“It _is_ you, isn’t it?”

Small man touching. Feels good.

“Can you… Can you drop it?”

Friend. Happy. Purr.

“Can you be Essek again?”

Blink.

E-ssek?

E-ssek…

Small man?

Small dark man.

Essek.

* * *

It takes him a while to get used to the influx of thoughts - more thoughts, faster thoughts, longer thoughts - his consciousness expanding back into a more complex web. He pinches his brow to alleviate the coming headache.

“A moorbounder, huh?”

Caleb is smiling and a wave of relief washes over Essek, releasing tension in his chest that he wasn’t aware of until now.

“I thought it would suit the dress code, so to speak,” he says rubbing his temples. _Besides, I know you are fond of cats,_ he adds quietly to himself.

He makes a step forward to close the distance that appeared between them as he shrunk down to his original form. His head spins, and he feels as if his knees might buckle beneath him. He would never describe himself as weak, but leaving the form of a giant feral cat certainly makes him feel that way. Caleb catches him and gently steadies him.

“You aren’t used to this, are you?”

He can only shake his head and lean on Caleb’s shoulder when he offers it. It’s at this point that he notices the giant blue mammoth still standing in the ruins.

“Hello, Jester.”

“Pfffffffffft!”

“Aren’t you going to change back?”

The mammoth gives him a confused look and Caleb laughs.

“She really enjoys being a mammoth. She usually makes the most out of the spell and stays in this form until it fades.”

There is a fluffy trunk reaching out towards him, sniffing him and huffing hot air into his hair.

“Yes, hello, that’s… Thank you, Jester.”

His cheeks heat up slightly as Caleb chuckles. “Come on. Let’s sit you down somewhere.”

He puts up a bit of a fight, but Caleb insists on taking off his coat and laying it on the fallen pillar for Essek to sit on. His head is still spinning a bit, and he keeps smelling strange things, which must be his feline smell-based memories, he guesses. He gratefully accepts a drink of water.

“Is this…” he asks weakly and gestures to Jester who is currently crushing a rotten tree trunk. “Is this really worth having such a dreadful hangover?”

“It um… It gets better with time,” Caleb says with a shrug. “And… ja, it is worth it. For me at least.”

“I’ve been told it does wonders for stress relief.”

He was sure his tone was friendly and understanding, but he regrets his words immediately, as the freckled face falls slightly.

“I know it must seem ridiculous…”

“No, no, not at all. I’m just curious…” he starts, carefully choosing his next words. “I understand the need for release and that destruction can provide it at times. But what does _this_ give you that a disintegration spell won’t?”

Caleb frowns slightly. His eyes search Essek’s face, for what he isn’t sure, but soon he seems appeased and speaks again.

“Well, it’s definitely more… physical. More raw. Didn’t you feel a um… rush when you were a big cat?”

There was, indeed, a rush. A wild sort of power, the feeling that he could run for miles, leap over rivers, kill with one bite. He nods.

“I suppose I did. But the lack of intellect was… somewhat disconcerting.”

He can feel Caleb closing up. He must have said the wrong thing again. Should he apologize or…?

“To me, that is part of it,” Caleb’s voice is barely audible. “Perhaps the most important part.”

Now that… that does seem ridiculous. He does his best not to recoil. “Being… unintelligent?”

“For a while, ja.”

He swallows a reaction of disbelief as he turns to look at Caleb. The man is clearly in a vulnerable state.

“Can you… help me understand?”

He gets a nod, albeit a timid one.

“You are a brilliant man. Why would you want to give that up, even for a moment?”

There is palpable sadness in the silence that follows.

“Have I…?”

“Nein, you… I… I’m choosing my words.”

He nods and waits. He stops himself from speaking up at least four times before Caleb finds his voice.

“I understand why that wouldn’t make sense to you. Of course, I value the power of the mind. I am proud of what I can accomplish, and I take immense satisfaction in it. You know all that, you have taught me after all.”

Another nod.

“But I have been under private tutelage before…”

There is a beat of silence, and it seems like Caleb doesn’t have the strength to break it.

“Ikithon?” Essek asks, and he hopes his voice sounds natural when he says the all-too-familiar name.

There is no nod this time, but Caleb’s thousand-yard-stare is enough to know he got it right.

“I can’t help but feel like I’ve only come this far because of him. That he made me who I am.”

He cannot possibly… And yet he does, it’s written all over his face. He actually believes what he has just said.

“You aren’t giving yourself enough credit,” Essek starts, surprising himself with how intense he sounds. “How long has it been since you were under his wing? How much have you learnt and accomplished since then? He has nothing to do with that. I have achieved far more than any of my previous teachers. Am I only what they made me?”

“That’s not all. He… I…”

With a glance at the human’s exposed forearms, he thinks he might understand.

“He hurt you.”

Caleb waves his hand dismissively.

“It’s me. I have done… unforgivable things. I did them through arcane means,” he says, his voice audibly strained. “Destroying things with magic… it can be satisfying, but…”

“It doesn’t help you heal.”

A nod.

“So you do this to forget. An ape’s mind is too simple to remember, to comprehend guilt.”

Another nod.

“I have spent _so much_ time running away from all of this. And then, in the throne room of King Dwendal… I saw him again, Essek. After all these years, I saw him and I…” his voice catches in his throat, but Essek waits until he can speak again. “It was too much. I couldn’t sleep. I ate so little I lost weight. I couldn’t do any work, couldn’t focus. I… I won’t let myself run away from what I’ve done. But I can’t make things better, can’t work to fix things if I’m a wreck. So I… give myself a chance to forget for a few hours. To… to cope.”

The burden on Caleb’s shoulders sounds so familiar, the talk of guilt hitting dangerously close to home. It is Essek’s turn to be speechless, as his throat goes dry and tightens. Caleb breaks the silence again.

“I know I don’t deserve relief. But I am too weak to go through with this without giving myself a moment of respite.”

“You are _not_ weak, Caleb!”

That this man would face his trauma, his guilt and actively fight to make up for what he did, and still think himself weak… _What will he think of you when he finds out?_ Essek shakes his head.

“You are _not_ weak,” he repeats, fancy words escaping him at the moment. “And, I haven’t been through what you have been through, but I feel like I understand a little bit.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Caleb smile briefly, perhaps recognizing the words. Still, he keeps silent, curled in on himself, his shoulders tense and raised almost all the way to his ears. His eyes look a little wet. Essek thinks it kind not to acknowledge it. Then again… Caleb didn’t ignore him when he was vulnerable and he survived… He looks for the right thing to say, but only one thing comes to mind.

“Are you in need of, um… a physical presence?”

He is rewarded with a wider smile. Caleb shakes his head.

“I am fine,” he reassures, his voice slightly wet. “Danke, Essek.”

He isn’t sure if the silence is made more or less awkward by the occasional noises of a bored mammoth exploring the area. He doesn’t know what to say. Caleb has managed to compose himself and is now looking into the distance, deep in thought.

When he breaks the silence, his voice is serious enough to make Essek miss the uncomfortable pause.

“I need to ask you something,” he begins, turning slightly to face Essek. “Why did you scry on us? Have we given you any reason to mistrust us?”

Essek opens his mouth to lie, then closes it. He carefully chooses the words he wants to use to tell the truth.

“I feel like, if we are honest, none of us have entirely let our guards down yet. Can you honestly say that you fully trust me?”

This time it’s Caleb who opens his mouth and immediately closes it. He looks apologetic.

“I…”

“That is alright. Truth be told, you are probably right not to.”

 _Close your mouth before you say too much_ , he scolds himself.

“So you thought we were conspiring against the Dynasty? Is that why you did it?”

The lie is tempting – it seems so reasonable, so justified, so easy – but it is a lie, and one that he strangely doesn’t want to tell. Not to Caleb. Not when he is this open with him.

“No. It wasn’t that at all.”

“Then why would you be concerned? If anything, I figured you’d be glad to have me out of your hair for a while.”

He laughs, despite himself, but thankfully so does Caleb, and the air around them seems more breathable again.

“You are not as much of a nuisance as one would expect,” he says, just as Jester drops an entire tree bough uncomfortably close behind them. “And by you, I mean you specifically. As a group you are truly unbearable at times.”

Caleb laughs again. He missed that sound, far more than he realised. He remembers how endearing Caleb was when he cried from laughter in his garden. He wants to see him like that again. Even if he has to butcher Zemnian words and make a fool of himself. _I want to spend time with you_ , he thinks.

“I don’t want you out of my hair, Caleb,” he says instead, and it breaks his heart a bit to see surprise on the other man’s face. “It’s my turn to ask a question now.”

“Time to collect?” Caleb quips with a grin, and Essek can’t help but huff a quiet laugh.

“Indeed.”

It takes him a while to work up the courage to speak. Some words seem too vulnerable. Some seem too harsh and too easy to misinterpret. He digs his nails into his palm. _If you don’t speak now, you might never get the chance to do it again, mal’ai! Do it!_

“Why would you worry so much about what I think of you?”

There. It’s out. _It’s out and it sounded terrible,_ he thinks as Caleb makes an almost imperceptible move, a jerk away from Essek. He looks like he wants to leave, but he doesn’t, so Essek tries again.

“You claim to think little of yourself sometimes, but you do have pride. You are a formidable arcanist. Why would you care what any wizard thinks of how you practise _your_ magic?”

There is silence again, but Essek waits. He has accepted the pace of this conversation.

“You aren’t… _any_ wizard.”

Essek’s jaw drops a bit before he collects himself. That was… Did that mean what…? It couldn’t. Did it?

This is ridiculous. He is a respected member of the royal court, the Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, he is partway through his second century, how does this man make him feel this way? His heart is pounding in his chest, his throat is dry, his palms are sweaty. His ear twitches and he can’t help but laugh.

“You are so much braver than me, Widogast.”

Fittingly, he can’t quite bring himself to look at Caleb. His words are still ringing in his ears, bouncing off the corners of his mind. _You aren’t any wizard._ With emphasis on _any_. You aren’t… Does he…?

If he does, then it was indeed a sign of courage. He owes him at least a smidgeon of the same in return.

“I am sorry, Caleb. I shouldn’t have scried on you. I should have just asked…” but he can’t quite bring himself to finish. _Asked if you…_ he tries silently, but he cannot even complete the thought.

“In all fairness, I probably wouldn’t have told you if you asked,” Caleb says with a sigh.

“Oh, I figured,” he laughs a tad bitterly.

Caleb missed the point entirely, of course he would, and it is so _tempting_ to just go with his interpretation. It would be so _easy_.

“But I meant that… I should have asked…” _Spit it out, you nadorhuan!_ “I should have asked if you wanted to have another um… discussion… about books.”

He instinctively wants to squeeze his eyes shut and hide his face in his palms, but the thought of how awkward _that_ would look stops him dead in his tracks. Cursing himself for saying anything, for even coming here, he turns to look at Caleb. He looks confused, to say the least.

“We’ve had plenty of these… I’m usually the one asking for them.”

 _Xal uk er’griff dro h’uena!_ He simply must be playing dumb now!

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do.”

 _I really wish you did!_ He thinks and takes a deep breath. He can try again. Essek Thelyss doesn’t give up easily.

“Have you… read any of the _Tales of the Light_?” he musters, fixing a clump of moss with his eyes. He hears a rustle and a heavy stomp behind them.

“I have. I must admit I’m still having a hard time deciphering drow… but the parts I have managed to get through were delightful.”

There is sincerity in Caleb’s voice that makes Essek smile. He can’t help but picture Caleb curled up with his favourite childhood book, struggling to string together syllables, much like he did when he was a drowling.

“I could teach you some drow, if you’d like.”

“In between our arcane lessons? You are a _busy_ _man_ , Shadowhand!”

His title. When Caleb last used it, it was a sign of distance and mistrust. Now it sounds playful, a friendly jab, an invitation.

“I wouldn’t mind doing it after hours,” he says, jokingly affecting his best tone of benevolent indifference.

Caleb chuckles. “I’m not sure if my _pride_ will allow that. Unless I get to teach you some Zemnian in exchange.”

“Oh, I would need wine to tackle the pronunciation,” he laughs. “But that could be arranged…”

He hazards a look at Caleb. He is a bit more unkempt than usual, his ponytail a little messy, a slight coppery stubble covering his cheeks. And there is a shy hint of a smile in the corner of his lips that he would give anything to kiss.

“An arcanist’s pride is a funny thing. It can push you so far…”

“Ja. I feel like it’s going to be the end of me one day!”

“I know the feeling!”

The smile widens and it’s harder than ever to focus. He moves ever so slightly towards Caleb, their shoulders now barely touching.

“Do you… do you ever feel like it is also holding you back at times?”

Caleb’s face goes through at least three different emotions. “I… ja.”

_You can’t fall in love with this man, you are an idiot, he is so beautiful, just say it, just…_

“Would um… would your pride allow it…,” he says, his throat tight and dry, “…if I kissed you?”

The silence that follows is terrifying. Caleb could probably tell him exactly how many seconds have passed, but to Essek, it’s been an eternity. He misread everything Caleb has said, didn’t he? He must have…

“No,” Caleb says, and he smiles, and it’s a familiar smile, a smile that brings memories of wine, books and stupid accents. “No it wouldn’t.”

If asked about their first kiss, Essek would say that it happened later, when they were sat shoulder to shoulder over an open spell book, amber lights dancing above their heads. He gently raised Caleb’s chin and kissed him softly, tasting the wine on his tongue.

He would _not_ admit that Caleb kissed him first, sitting on a collapsed pillar in the Ghostlands, both of them still smelling vaguely of tired furry beasts, and with a blue mammoth tooting triumphantly behind them. That is a truth he isn’t ready to tell yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned that feedback is greatly appreciated? <3
> 
>  **Drow glossary**  
>  mal'ai - idiot  
> nadorhuan - coward  
> Xal uk er’griff dro h’uena! - May he only live once! (an expression of deep annoyance)


End file.
